


city lights

by frougge



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Friends to friends, Love Wins, M/M, Park Chanyeol-centric, Pre-Relationship, Tattoos, aspiring tattoo artist sehun, but like... hopeful ?, chanyeol's obsessed with sehun and he's so right for this, more specifically. stick and pokes, or just one actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25023508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frougge/pseuds/frougge
Summary: “You’ll figure it out somehow, and hopefully won’t get an infection.”“You said I definitely wouldn’t get an infection,” Chanyeol whines, lifting his arm slightly when prompted to do so by Sehun, letting Sehun wrap saran wrap around the tattoo a bit too tightly. “You promised.”“I had to get you to agree to this somehow, didn’t I?” Sehun says and Chanyeol’s not quite sure if it’s a joke or not.
Relationships: Oh Sehun/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	city lights

**Author's Note:**

> sehun plz post a picture of you drawing on chanyeol<3 don't ask me why just do it king i'll be waiting. also this feels needless to say but sob emoji dont try this at home unless ur like. idk i guess experienced.. or like... know what ur doing... smth. anw big thank u to the wikihow article on this if anything re stick and pokes is wrong in the fic its on wikihow not me<3
> 
> u can find the playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2tvd6ZSF7yxTKPRJQ42ud0?si=goXNSd2VSmiyMXPzZz9isw)

The near stench of rubbing alcohol burns Chanyeol’s eyes as Sehun sterilizes the skin on his forearm with a cotton ball, small droplets of it finding their way down to his elbow. Chanyeol has to blink several times, pointedly directing his eyes to the ceiling to avoid any tears from spilling; he’d never be able to live that down.

“Did you have to use so much?” he asks, when Sehun finishes, throwing away the cotton ball and adjusting his gloves without another thought. Chanyeol’s skin glistens under the muted lights, and he wonders, offhandedly, if this is a good idea. “We’re gonna have to wait forever for it to dry.”

“We’re not going to have to wait forever,” Sehun mutters, only half-listening. “It gives you some time to make sure you’re certain you want it, too. You can always back out, you know.”

“I won’t,” Chanyeol says quickly. Sehun gives him a look, amused, and he tacks on a small, “back out, I mean. I want this.”

“If you say so.”

He’s not sure he wants this, is the thing.

He knows he wants the experience—knows he wants Sehun at his side like this, bent over his arm and focusing on him and him only for however much time it’ll take him to get the tattoo done. Knows he wants to spend time with Sehun, alone, without the rest of their friends disrupting the silence or sweeping Sehun away. It’s not often that they do something like this—and even when they hang out on their own, Sehun’s distracted, be it by whatever game they’re playing or something else.

He knows he wants the tattoo as well, if only because Sehun’s the one who’s embedding it in his skin. Chanyeol has a few other tattoos, scattered around his arms, mostly, but they were done at a studio with a tattoo artist who he does not know, who he does not care for on a personal level, who he’s not in love with.

He’s just a bit worried about the possible infection part of it all, maybe. Probably. Definitely.

Chanyeol takes a deep breath, careful not to let the sterilized section of his arm touch anything as he readjusts in his seat to take a closer look at Sehun; he’s currently trying to draw out the design on his own skin. Chanyeol watches as the marker Sehun’s using leaves dark lines on his skin and lets himself imagine that they’re getting matching tattoos to bond them together for the rest of time.

Sehun takes his staring the wrong way, apparently, not even looking up as he says, “I can redesign it if you think it looks bad.”

“It doesn’t look bad,” Chanyeol reassures him, “I’m just…”

“I checked ten times,” Sehun says, “it’s a non-toxic, non-permanent marker. I promise. You can even read the label yourself if you don’t trust me that much.”

“I trust you,” Chanyeol says, because he does. Him fully trusting Sehun and being terrified that the marker he’s using is permanent and toxic are two truths that can co-exist, after all. “I just… can you check one more time?”

Sehun rolls his eyes, not replying, and Chanyeol tries not to sink in his seat, feeling waves of embarrassment wash over him. It’s always like this with Sehun: one wrong move, one wrong line has him reeling, the imaginary distance between them multiplying steadily.

“Just in case,” Chanyeol blurts out, in an attempt to give Sehun the context.

“Right,” Sehun says. He doesn’t add anything else, focusing on finishing the drawing. It doesn’t take him much time and he caps the marker when he’s finished, leaning closer to Chanyeol to hold it up in front of his eyes. “Check it yourself.”

Chanyeol tries not to flush as his eyes skip over the label, picking up the _NON-PERMANENT_ and _NON-TOXIC_ written across it quickly. He swallows, throat dry, but Sehun wastes no time gloating as he sets the marker down. He holds out his forearm, twisting it around for Chanyeol to see.

“It’s going to look something like this,” he says, using his fingers to twist the skin. Chanyeol watches with curious eyes as the drawing shifts on Sehun’s arm, deforming slightly with each movement. “Is that okay?”

The design is simple, almost glaringly so. “It has to be simple for a stick and poke,” Sehun had said, when Chanyeol arrived at the studio apartment Sehun shared with Baekhyun, “so I don’t fuck it up and it looks nice and shit.” And it’s not like simple tattoos didn’t have a certain charm to them, something elegant in their few lines.

“It looks perfect,” Chanyeol says truthfully. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch it, even though he knows that the skin under it isn’t raised; it could be a fresh tattoo, looks like it a bit, even, with how Sehun’s skin is sunburned from the day before. “Are you going to draw it on me, now?”

“Yes,” Sehun pulls up his stool closer, dragging Chanyeol’s arm further onto the small table he’s set up earlier. He turns it into place, grabbing a paper towel to make sure the rubbing alcohol he’d used earlier fully dried before discarding the towel aside on the floor. “Are you sure it’s good? That you don’t want to change anything?”

Chanyeol lets his eyes rake back to Sehun’s forearm, where the design looks startlingly dark against his skin; it’s a small drawing, a minimalistic caricature of the moon and two constellations on either side, one terribly more complicated than the other.

“What is it?” Sehun had asked, when Chanyeol showed him a small drawing he’d made of the two constellations. “Does it have any meaning to it or is it just random stars?”

“Aren’t tattoo artists supposed to be a bit less nosy?” Chanyeol teased him, “if you want to try to make it in a studio, you know you’re going to have to tune the questions down, yeah?”

“I’m asking it as your friend,” Sehun stressed, near annoyed. Or maybe he was just pretending; Chanyeol’s never able to tell, truthfully, though they’ve known each other for so long. On the other hand, Sehun’s often able to read him without any problems, gaze softening and fingers pressing into his skin in comfort. “It looks like a constellation. Is it…?”

“I just thought the pattern would look nice,” Chanyeol lied then, and he’ll have to lie again and again, when their friends peer at the finished product in the upcoming days.

“I don’t want to change anything,” Chanyeol says now, meeting Sehun’s eyes. Sehun looks incredibly relieved—a bit flattered, too, if the light color in his cheeks is any indicator. “It looks great.”

Sehun nods, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth as he picks up the marker, uncapping it with one smooth move of his thumb. He leans down over Chanyeol’s arm, starting to draw out the design, and Chanyeol sucks in a breath, unable to exhale as the pressure from the marker goes straight to his veins.

It takes a few minutes for Sehun to finish; it would’ve taken less, maybe, if he’d been less precise, but he’d carefully planned out the position of each star and painstakingly marked it on Chanyeol’s skin, making sure it lined up to the other stars as it should. Chanyeol takes the opportunity to watch Sehun as he works, the image of pure concentration. He’s still toying with his lip, his brows are skewed together, eyes narrowed slightly, and Chanyeol feels his heart crash against his ribs.

“There,” Sehun says, startling Chanyeol as he sits up, looking at his handiwork. Chanyeol peers at it, too, the drawing almost making him dizzy. “If you want, you can go up to the mirror to see how it’ll look?”

“I trust you,” Chanyeol says.

“Trusting me has nothing to do with this,” Sehun quips back, standing up and walking over to the kitchen counter, where he’d left his supplies set out. He picks up one of the needles, eying it slightly, and Chanyeol’s eyes pointedly swerve up to the ceiling, trying to ignore it. “It’s your body. Maybe at least make sure you like it so you don’t hate me later?”

“I could never hate you,” Chanyeol says.

“Right,” Sehun says, disbelief plain in his voice. “Just check it out? If not for yourself then for me.”

And Chanyeol’s never been one to refuse Sehun, so he stands, making careful steps to the mirror in the hallway of Sehun and Baekhyun’s apartment. He flips on the light switch, twisting his arm back and forth once he’s close enough to see himself and subsequently the design in the mirror. Even if he wanted to change it—he doesn’t—it seems like it’d be too much work for just a simple adjustment.

“It’s good,” he tells Sehun once they’ve both returned to their positions, Chanyeol in the ridiculously uncomfortable chair from under their makeshift dining table and Sehun perched on the stool, his equipment next to Chanyeol’s arm on the table. The small ink cap has been flooded with what Chanyeol presumes is tattoo ink but is too scared to ask and Sehun’s toying with his lighter as he stares at Chanyeol, clearly trying to act as a lie detector.

His features relax once he deems Chanyeol’s answer acceptable, apparently, and he moves on to sterilizing the needle. He holds it over the lighter, watching it glow red, and Chanyeol watches too, trying not to let the stress overtake his mind. It’s always like this, with every tattoo he’s gotten, though now it’s significantly worse—and it’s kind of scary, maybe, the effect Sehun has on him.

“You’re sure you want this?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol says. He raises his brow at Sehun, unable to stop his grin, “don’t tell me you’re going to back out. I thought we agreed that if anyone was going to be a incel and back out, it was going to be me.”

“You wouldn’t be a incel for backing out,” Sehun huffs, “and no, I’m not. But if you want to—at any part of this, then you know you can.”

“I don’t want to,” Chanyeol insists and that seems to be enough for Sehun. He dips the needle in ink, giving Chanyeol one last questioning look, before he starts on the tattoo.

Chanyeol tries to relax in his seat as he watches Sehun work. He feels every puncture Sehun makes and it stings rather uncomfortably, the pain going down to his bones. He sees Sehun wipe his hand with a paper towel, streaks of red staining white, and lets out a shaky breath.

“You good?” Sehun asks. He doesn’t stop the process, though, focused on Chanyeol’s arm, and Chanyeol swallows.

“‘Course,” Chanyeol says, just barely managing to keep from winces. He lifts his gaze to Sehun’s face rather than his hands, and the slightest bit of relief manages to pass through his skin. “Just out of curiosity, though, how much have you got left?”

“Don’t you want to see for yourself?”

“I’d rather not,” and Sehun laughs, the asshole, clearly amused. “It’s not that funny, Sehun.”

“It’s a bit funny,” Sehun says, “and there’s barely anything done. You’re going to have to last a bit longer, king. Can you do that for me?”

Chanyeol’s skin burns and he bites his tongue before he can blurt anything out in response, and Sehun continues working. If he feels Chanyeol’s eyes on him, he doesn’t say anything, too busy humming some song that Chanyeol recognizes from the radio under his breath.

He doesn’t know how long Sehun’s been tattooing him when he notices that the sun’s started to fall under the horizon outside the windows, judging solely by how the light hitting Sehun’s hair starts gradually changing colors. It finally settles on a dark blue, shredding the entire living room in the same hue, and Chanyeol’s about to ask Sehun whether he needs to turn a light on when Sehun wipes his tattoo one last time and stands, shaking his fringe out of his eyes before he peers at his handiwork.

Chanyeol watches him, confused. “Are you taking a break?”

“It’s done,” Sehun tells him, a near smile on his face as he stalks over to the kitchen. Chanyeol hears him turn the tap on but that’s in the far back of his mind as he sits up, looking at the tattoo. The ink’s streaked across his skin but the design is there, definitely, raised on his red skin. “We’ll have to do another one of these once it’s healed to touch up the lines, so they’re all smooth and shit, but for now it’s done. What do you think?”

“I think…” Chanyeol trails off, his fingers itching to touch the tattoo. He shouldn’t—he can’t, he won’t, but the urge to run his hands over the design is stronger than it had been with Sehun. “I don’t think it could look any better. I hope it heals right.”

“It’s going to look better once it’s healed,” Sehun says, coming to sit back down on the stool. He dips a paper towel in the bowl filled with water and soap that he brought from the kitchen, and presses it gently to Chanyeol’s skin, cleaning it slowly. “And once the lines are fully smooth.”

“It still looks good now,” Chanyeol says. Sehun sets the wet towel aside, picking up a dry one and pressing it to Chanyeol’s skin. “Remind me how I have to take care of it?”

“Look it up, I’m not telling you shit.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, letting his head rest on the back of the chair, eyes back on the ceiling as Sehun massages some shit onto his skin, to keep the tattoo from drying out. Or something. “Not even a hint on how to take care of it?”

“I’ll send you the link to the wikihow article,” Sehun says. “You’ll figure it out somehow, and hopefully won’t get an infection.”

“You said I definitely wouldn’t get an infection,” Chanyeol whines, lifting his arm slightly when prompted to do so by Sehun, letting Sehun wrap saran wrap around the tattoo a bit too tightly. “You promised.”

“I had to get you to agree to this somehow, didn’t I?” Sehun says and Chanyeol’s not quite sure if it’s a joke or not. He hits Chanyeol’s knee, fingers lingering on it slightly, before getting up, swiping up his dirty supplies together and going to throw them out. “Anyway—if you actually do have any problems with it, do tell me… or maybe tell Kyungsoo, actually, since he’s most likely to actually know what the fuck to do with it.”

“Will keep that in mind,” Chanyeol sits up, finally letting himself drag his fingers up over the bandaged tattoo. Even if he does live to regret it one day, he could easily cover it up, he supposes—though it’s rather unlikely he’d ever do that, he reminds himself, eyes jumping up to find Sehun struggling with pulling his gloves off in the kitchen.

He smiles, unable to keep himself from doing so. Sehun doesn’t notice him looking as he finishes tugging the gloves off, discarding them offhandedly in the trashcan, attention captured by his phone which pings with a new notification.

“Baekhyun’s going to be home in fifteen minutes,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips, one that Chanyeol feels almost not welcome to see. Sehun lifts his gaze to meet Chanyeol’s eyes, and the smile drops just slightly. “Should I tell him you’re staying? You’re welcome to.”

“As long as you don’t mind,” Chanyeol says. “And Baekhyun doesn’t, either.”

“You know he thrives surrounded by people, of course he doesn’t mind,” Sehun says, typing back a reply and slipping his phone on the counter. He leans on the counter, eying Chanyeol, and only then does he remember what they’ve been doing the whole afternoon, only then does Chanyeol slip back into his list of priorities. “Uh, do you need a painkiller, maybe?”

Chanyeol smiles, pushing himself up and shoving the chair back under the dinner table. His arm is more numb than in pain, maybe, and it’s nothing he can’t deal with. “I’m good. Do you even have any painkillers?”

“Uh,” Sehun’s brows twists together, though he doesn’t even bother pretending to shift through the cupboards. “No,” he admits.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” he says, walking over to the couch and sinking into it rather unceremoniously. It’s surprisingly comfortable, more comfortable than his own couch in his apartment, but Chanyeol figures that’s more Baekhyun’s doing than Sehun’s. “Join me?”

And Sehun doesn’t quite seem to get the meaning of his words, because he replies, “what, you want to watch an episode of Tattoo Fixers for some inspiration?”

“Sure,” Chanyeol teases and Sehun rolls his eyes, though he does pad over to join Chanyeol on the couch, sitting terribly far from him. Chanyeol’s a bit too amped up on the adrenaline, maybe a bit too amped up on the pain, still, and he feels no shame as he scoots closer, resting his arm on the back of the couch, just close enough to feel Sehun’s hair tickle his skin.

Sehun doesn’t seem to mind, though, just offering Chanyeol a light smile, as he reaches for the TV remote. His hand skims the top of Chanyeol’s thigh as he does so and—and.

Maybe there’s more to it than Chanyeol thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed !
> 
> come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/frouggyu) // [buy me a ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/frougge)


End file.
